When you have twelve beauties in your skin
Two duchesses and ten typists
What more will you have except
Other than a little lead
A little lead in the wing
No more in the brain
When you have slammed your grisbi
In all the gun boxes
You will never be anything but a pigeon
With a little lead
A little lead in the wing
No more in the brain
When in the fire of passion
On the ladders of nylon stockings
You will climb, you will climb
Afterwards what will you have?
You will have lead in the wing
No more in the brain
When you have loved with all the wind
And your chickens will no longer have teeth
To eat your heart in your hand
Well, my smart guy
You'll have lead in your wing
No more in your brain
And when you have spent your life
Behind the bars of your bed
You will say that you paid for it
And yes, and then after s?
You'll have lead in your wing
No more in your brain
But it's true that you won't make old bones
br/>With your twelve beauties in your skin
One day you will come across a guy
A guy who will send you
Lead in the brain
And he will push you wings

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